A young student nearly traded a treasure for a trinket.
An offer had arrived wrapped in urgency — “act now,” “secure your place,” “don’t miss out.” Under that pressure, something subtle happened inside him: his awareness tightened. And when the mind becomes small, even what is priceless appears ordinary.
He brought the offer to the village teacher. The teacher stiffened — not out of anger, but out of the sting that arises when something precious is suddenly misunderstood. The space between them grew tense.
Both sensed something was off. Both began probing — gently at first, then with the firmness of two swords testing for an opening. The student tried to understand the teacher’s reaction; the teacher tried to understand the student’s decision. Their words struck and slipped like paired kata, searching for the hidden point of imbalance.
The student knew the teacher carried deep lineage — that he had guided whole clans from chaotic methods into harmonious practice, that his roots stretched back to the founders of their craft. But knowing is one thing. Remembering is another. And feeling it in your bones — in the moment when pressure closes around you — is something else entirely.
Why is it that intellect survives pressure, but gratitude doesn’t? Why does fear shrink the mind until facts remain, yet their meaning vanishes? Why do we forget the value of what we did not bleed to receive?
As they probed, the truth finally surfaced: The student had not lost respect — he had lost center. His field had collapsed, and with it, his memory of what already stood before him. And the teacher saw that the misunderstanding was not born from rejection, but from smallness.
The realization washed through both of them. Their stances softened. The tension dissolved. And in the widening of the student’s mind, gratitude returned like breath after being held too long.
So the question remains:
When urgency grips you, what treasure do you forget? And how do you train to remember before loss becomes your teacher?
Practice
The next time something “urgent” appears, pause. Feel your field contract — breath shallow, vision narrow, Driver pushing, Organizer trembling. Ask one quiet question:
“If my mind were larger, what would I already know?”
Let that remembering guide you back to the treasure already in your hands.
⛩️🖥️
